I Want To Believe, Help My Unbelief
by everyone'ssister
Summary: Tag for 13.02, The Rising Son. Dean had probably been in the best place emotionally and mentally he'd ever been...before everything went down. Now? Now he feels as if he will never believe again.


I WANT TO BELIEVE, HELP MY UNBELIEF

It's not that Dean doesn't believe in a greater purpose, or that he doesn't believe in the greater _good_. It's just that so much _bad_ has happened. Dean Winchester is the same as any other human...he wants to believe in something. He _longs_ to believe in something.

He trusts in himself, in his brother...his family and a few close friends. He believed somewhat in Chuck, in God. But why? Because he loved his sister as much as he loved Sam? Dean had allowed himself to project himself on Chuck...Chuck was not him, Chuck would not sacrifice everything for someone else, even for his favored creations.

Dean's faith is shattered...because he had failed his mother and his best friend. He had trusted whole heartedly in himself because 'if you want something done right do it yourself'. And he had been there...it shouldn't have ended like that. Even his faith in himself is broken and gone.

So here he is. His most treasured person and companion by his side (he shivers with relief, shivers with the thought of losing Sam) Here he is with Sam and the cause of all this mess, of all his unstable grief and confusion...the nephilim, Jack, Lucifer's son.

If Cas, an angel of the Lord tripped and fell sometimes, if humanity, the very creations God himself had named his children instead of angels still failed and messed up all the time...if Sam, the very best person Dean knew, screwed up sometimes, then Jack? The very spawn of Satan...he would be evil, eventually, in time...without fail in this messed up dark, hopeless world Jack would trip up too, he would hurt people, he would go dark side...another disappointment, another crisis Dean would be responsible for.

Something he put his faith and belief in would fail him again.

So it's not that Dean doesn't believe in a greater purpose, or that he doesn't believe in a greater good...or good in general. It's just that he doesn't believe anymore. Oh he wants to believe, he wants to inherently trust that good will triumph at the end of the day, because that's him, that's he and Sam...that's what they've dedicated their whole lives to fighting for.

But he is broken. This time that bounce back, that 'it'll all work itself out because good does triumph' it's burnt out and Dean doesn't have anymore faith left in him, anymore fire, anymore _belief_.

And he hates that. It makes him feel dead inside like he hasn't in a long time. It scares him and it makes him angry, confusing him...because he doesn't want to be callous and empty but he just is. He just can't...it is not inside him to rebound this time.

He finds himself feeling more alone and worthless than he has in a long time...and why? Sam was still with him, god, he still had his brother...he would be nothing without Sam and yet here he is unable to lift himself out of this rut he's fallen into. He's angry yes, about losing his mother and Cas but, no one can begin to understand how grateful he is that his younger brother hadn't fallen on that fateful night.

Dean wants his passion back, he wants to feel that fiery fight alive inside him, he wants to stand beside his brother full of belief and faith that everyone deserves a chance...

 _I want to believe, help my unbelief!_

This leaves him in his room, alone, the silence of the bunker bearing down on him like a thousand pounds of stone. He's trying to drown it out with loud music and more than 'too much' alcohol, pissed because Chuck and Crowley had drunk their best liquor when they thought the world was ending.

He's grumpy at best, sleep pulling at his eyes. But he's fighting it, he doesn't want to sleep. Definitely does not want to sleep...the horrific nightmares he knows are waiting for him make his stomach coil in fear. Why his subconscious always reacted with nightmares he'll never know...but it was his special curse, the thorn in his side.

The generator under the bunker starts up. He likes the sound, the familiarity and security of every night when the beast of a machine grumbles to life right on time and hums for a couple of hours. The sound more often then not is what coaxes Dean to slip into sleep.

His eyes are drooping when a weight suddenly lands on the mattress at his feet and he nearly jumps out of his skin as Jack materializes at the foot of his bed. The f...he's about to call for Sam, annoyed, when he notices the kid's shaking a little, eyes on the walls around them skittishly.

"You're supposed to knock on the door." He says flatly, sliding the headphones down around his neck. Jack jumps and wraps his arms around his knees before looking over his shoulder at Dean.

"I'm, I'm sorry." Jack says slowly, "I didn't mean to come here." He asks, eyes back to the door. "I got scared and then I was here, w, what's that sound?"

Great, Dean thinks. He's got a nephilim on his hands with unlimited unknown powers that had imprinted on him like some motherless duckling.

"It's just the generator, kid."

At the head tilt and confused, creased brow that Dean's all too familiar with he clarifies, "The generator is just a machine, it's what gives us light and circulates the air so we can breathe."

"Machine, like your car?" Jack asks slowly.

"Yup, like my Baby."

And that's something he's not even going to try and explain. So he moves on... "Why didn't you go to Sam's room? He'd probably rock you and sing you a lullaby till you fell back to sleep."

Jack holds his head to the side, eyes on the desk and the tall bottle of liquor he's got there. "I didn't choose it, I just felt scared when t, the gen-er-ator turned on and I ended up here...Sam said that I don't understand my powers yet and that when I feel strongly about something my powers just," he shrugs, "React."

 _Exactly what is so frickin terrifying about you,_ Dean thinks.

"Sam's right." Dean nods, "Jack you listen to him, you hear? Sam's smart and wants to help you and he wants to protect you and everyone else."

"You want to protect me too." Jack says slowly, "You risked your life for me today over and over again."

"Yeah well," Dean shrugs, rising to pour himself another finger of whiskey. "Regardless of who your father is you haven't done anything wrong...yet. And if the angels or demons found you and used your power for something else trust me, we'd be in a lot more trouble than just trying to keep you from hurting people by accident."

Jack relaxes as Dean talks, drops his legs and leans over to peer into Dean's glass who has sat back down on the bed. He smells and cough a little at the sharp scent. Dean shakes his head, pursing his lips.

"You want some?" He asks with raised brows, Sam would burst a blood vessel.

Jack nods and carefully takes the glass from Dean's hand and sniffs once again before he takes a small taste, smacks his lips and hums with the fire sweeping down his throat.

"It's warm." He says with a small smile, he likes the fuzzy comfortable feeling coating his insides.

"Yeah." Dean laughs, "You like?"

Jack nods and sips again, "Woah okay, cowboy, lets slow it down." Dean says, taking his glass back, eyes frowning at the tattered shirt the boy is wearing. "And what are you doing still in that shirt? If Sammy sees he's gonna have a fit."

"Sammy?" Jack asks, standing as Dean does to go to his drawer to fish out one of his own white t-shirts.

"Yeah, that's what I call Sam; only me." He asserts sternly, giving Jack his best scary eyes. "C'mon take it off." He motions up with his hands and Jack slowly strips the ruined material off and accepts the new garment from the older Winchester.

"Because you are his brother...?" Jack asks thoughtfully.

"Because I'm his big brother." Dean corrects with an arched brow and an absentminded fond smile on his face.

Jack puts on the shirt and sits again, Dean rolls his eyes, of course he couldn't get rid of the kid that easy. The hunter sits back down too, shoulders slumping over his whiskey glass.

"Still scared?" He asks, tone wistful.

"I guess not..." Jack says slowly, eyes faraway where they're fixed on the floor as if searching himself for fear. "...If its only a machine."

"Great!" Dean smiles and slaps his thigh, "Goodnight then."

Jack cocks his head to one side and opens his mouth to respond when...

"Dean!" Sam's voice yells in the alarmed tone that comes straight from the depths of his chest.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Here we go...mother hen for real." He doesn't have enough time to stop Jack from reaching over, taking his glass and treating himself to another drink of whiskey before the mother hen in question makes an appearance.

"Dean!" Sam appears in the doorway out of breath, "I can't find Ja...oh."

"Yeah." Dean says flatly, "The generator turned on and 'poof' I get nephilim exclusively to my room no added charge."

At that moment Jack sips the whiskey slowly again, smacking his lips just like the first time, eyes lighting up. "Sam!" He says, looking to the younger Winchester. "I like it. It's warm!"

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam asks as he strides into the room and takes the glass from Jack's hand.

Dean shrugs innocently, "You let him have beer earlier."

"Dean Winchester you know very well there's a difference between beer and whiskey, a big difference."

"Look," Dean says placatingly, "The kid said he wanted to taste I said yes, all that happened."

"So irresponsible." Sam mumbles under his breath, sniffing the glass. "Not even the good stuff."

Dean looks offended, "The good stuff is gone." He pouts.

"No it isn't, you just got to go down..."

"Down to the cellar." Dean finishes, "Yes, I'm aware and I'm not, too far to go tonight when this," he stands and takes his glass back. "This will do fine."

Sam sends him an exasperated look.

Jack squints his eyes, turning to Dean, "I see now what you mean by calling your brother a mother hen."

Sam practically growls at Dean who smiles easily. "Can you two groupies get out my room now?" He asks.

"Gladly." Sam snaps, but Dean knows he's just annoyed, not honestly angry.

"Thanks for the...drink." Jack says slowly as he follows Sam out at his same steady pace...slow.

"Whiskey! It's called whiskey." Dean says exasperatedly.

"Thanks for the whiskey." Jack says with a toothy grin and Dean groans with the display of the cuteness that no doubt Sam has fallen prey of.

"Jerk!" Sam hisses as he closes the door.

"Bitch." Dean returns edgily, but a smile softens his face as he throws back the last of his and the nephilim's shared drink. He finds he doesn't feel as empty or alone...

Maybe someone or something had answered his cry for help, for support, for comfort...

 _I want to believe, help my unbelief_.

the end.

Hope you enjoyed! REVIEW!? ;);):):)

 _I feel like Dean is getting misunderstood by a lot of fans this season and it is very easy to forget who Dean is as hunter and a killer amidst all the hugs and the sweet moments of the end of last season. He is a cynic and a pessimist. His reaction to Jack is totally expected and true to character. Don't hate Dean please...everything in their life has gone wrong so he just assumes Jack will go wrong too. Really, he just doesn't want to be disappointed again._


End file.
